chooppi

[chooppi]

let's say hypothetically... i'd want to make a 'through it all' spin off luffy smau one shot... do i have your permission... 😝

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS OF COURSE PLEASEE DO IT NEOW

[chooppi]

09. A SET UP - THROUGH IT ALL

EIGHT | MASTERLIST | TEN

PAIRING: bassist portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i worked a total of 34 hours in just two days and have been DRAINED which is why the update has been bad, it’s not gonna get better though but i’m doing my best to get updates out

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheeyes @xinxinpeh @kaldurahms-lover @hlkenoace @insomniacvoidsstuff @cruziival72 @aiieera @wanoisland @rukianaa

[chooppi]

just finished watching squid game s3, oh

[chooppi]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤcome get the body that loves youㅤㅤ＼ㅤace, his devil fruit, falling in loveㅤㅤ𖥟

♡ㅤ𓎟𓎟𓎟ㅤㅤ፧ㅤㅤ ͟🀢͟ ͟ ͟  sabo ver (11 jul) ㅤ𓇬ㅤluffy ver (wip) ＼

火拳の၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧ㅤ𝒑. ace x fem! readerㅤ 𓊉 ㅤ~𝟤𝟩𝟢𝟢𝗐𝖼ㅤ───drabble, not beta'd, canon compliant, (un)requited love, yearning, feelings, fuck ton of other stuff to make a girl's sunday feel religious, his dick makes an appearance and probably not in the way you guys want..., crack throughout᭮ ━─⠀ ❤︎ ㅤ2025©vyainide ㅤㅤ︶ིྀᩧㅤ1864lib

vyon's mouthpiece. i got carried away with this... it was meant to be an asl drabble but i realised halfway through sabo's that they're too long for drabbles and no one's gna read em all in one sitting on tumblr so i think i'm going to post them separately

Burning is not new for Ace.

He's always been the skin for a match to find its flame: goosebump flesh, scarred and scuffed, rough around every corner of his body, dry 'round the contact spots that make you shiver when he touches, calloused skin that always cracked from the burn of a sun no one else sees. A catch and brush against his flesh is always pregnant with the scorch.

Before he ate his devil fruit, he was little more than spitting of embers crackling for resuscitation. It was always a low feeling in his stomach, a shift that never quite sat quite right, a hollowness so chronic that it mimicked the heavy of fullness. Ace had always been made for the burn. When the fire came, he remembered his younger life at Foosa in its scarlet, fighting with Sabo and Luffy over meat, over prey, over the blanket they shared, over the miniscule things.

Something about it felt right. Ace was always the hearth of a home for flames— burning was always in his blood.

"You run cold," is the first thing you tell Ace. An observation that everyone's always made, leaking with its tepid surprise. He can tell you're hesitant about making that comment, as if it betrays the notion of careful observation you've been keeping reserved for him.

Ace merely grins, sees himself flicker on the hues of fire on your cheek with the lamps dotted 'round the quiet Moby Dick and agrees, "sure do!"

He realised two days into your sudden stay that you're the pirate from Whitey Bay's crew that Izou was always talking to, had been providing general crew expansion updates for. He recognises your voice, the intonation that betrays your hailing from the east. Izou's doomed Ace though, talked enough about Ace that you've picked up an awful misconception that Ace was going to kill Whitebeard. It's not his fault— Ace considers himself a new man, a phoenix from the ashes of his multiple failed attempts to kill a dying man, but all you see is a squawking chicken running around headless.

Your brows furrow and you don't look fairly impressed. In fact, you are so unamused that it wins over your curiosity and suspicion of Ace, so your next move is to stretch out your foot and continue walking to where you were previously heading before Ace barged into you.

The flare warps, stretches out with the short toss of wind that your body kicks up when it passes him and follows after the shape of you— snaps away from the safety of his chest and then disperses like it'd never been his in the first place. Ace frowns after you, confused at best.

You're still around after that, dotted in between crew members that Ace hasn't quite gotten close to, joking around with the sterner division leaders who are always beating him up in guise of 'training', and scolding Whitebeard on behalf of your own captain. Ace doesn't exactly know why you're there, but it's easy to find you since Whitebeard's crew is namely full of men.

You talk a couple more times after that and Ace knows that you're still testing him, checking to see where his loyalties lie with every passing conversation.

Unfortunately, you don't seem to take to his charm like the Whitebeard pirates have so easily, who saw something endearing about him trying to kill their father— he remembers something about Dadan saying that women are so much better than men at detecting bullshit. That only serves to confuse Ace though, 'cause as far as he's concerned, he's accepted his role as Whitebeard's son.

He makes up his mind to ask you about it after a particularly stern staring contest that gave him indigestion, but you're gone the next day.

"She don't like me much." He stirs the spoon 'round the soup that he's left long enough for it to draw a film over the top. He's only musing to himself, speaking it aloud to see if it makes much sense— Ace thinks that it does, but he ain't too sure why he feels weird about it.

Haruta frowns at his cooling soup, judging him probably. "Why'd you think that?" The twist of his face only deepens when Ace uses his spoon to bring the clump of film up to his lips, eating it without care.

Ace looks at Haruta like he's stupid, the way the twelfth division leader is already looking at him, "did'ya not see the way she was looking at me?"

Haruta kicks Ace under the table, so hard that it rattles his bowl of soup— luckily, Ace manages to stabilise it in time and when he offers some look of betrayal at the man, Haruta's already looking at him weird. "Don't be mean; that's just her face. She's insecure about it."

That's the only thing that Ace really takes away from the conversation, that and the fact that Haruta is a liar; no woman glares like that unless she fully well means to do so. It was intentional.

Ace doesn't see you again until Marco has the scare of his life as Whitebeard has a bad reaction to some new medicine that he's administrated. It's lucky that Marco's devil fruit essentially makes him immortal, otherwise he'd have lost half the years of his own life taking care of Whitebeard's.

The closer of the fleets loiter around their father's ship, even as his stats come back to normal; unfortunately for Ace, Whitey Bay is one of those. That gives you an excuse to linger around odd corners, watching him like he's the reason that Whitebeard had taken his pills with alcohol (like he always does behind Marco's back) and that was— unsurprisingly— a horrible idea.

He's mature enough to ignore it, years with Luffy had nurtured him into the bigger person so he's pretty good at tolerating the weird stuff. That is, of course, until you accost him tucking himself back into his pants after a piss.

He'd like to say he's proficient with his devil fruit now— and not just as an excuse to get out of devil fruit mastery training with Marco— and moments where a sudden jerk or an unexpected scare makes him burst into flames have been scarce and far between, but you get it out of him. Manage to coax out that hypnic jerk, make the fire explode through the pyre laid beneath his chest first before swallowing whole up to his neck and he feels hot, but he knows it's not the fire but the embarrassment.

"What the hell are you doing—!"

"Oh," you blink, pinching off the fried crisps of your bangs, "it's hot."

Ace baulks, he feels like he's talking to Luffy about something that should be common sense. "Of course it's hot! It's fire!" He fumbles with the zipper of his shorts, turning his front away from your view, he remembers Luffy again for some reason— very specifically his stupid face with a finger up his nose— and then a dreadful realisation comes dawning upon him. "Is this the reason why you've been glaring at me?"

You seem almost upset by the accusation, "I haven't been glaring— plus, you're cold."

With his pants no longer at risk of dropping to his ankles, Ace finally spins back around to face you. "What?"

"You're cold, but you're made up of flames." You carefully explain to him— the way that Makino used to talk to him and the brothers when they were younger, "don't you think that there's something wrong with you?"

"I don't want to hear that from a gal who walked in whilst my dick was out!"

"Don't worry, it doesn't look like there was much to see."

He ends up yelling at you— which has been a lot of conclusions to his conversations with Luffy actually so it gives him a strange sense of deja vu, makes him miss Luffy even more. It really ain't the time to think about it though because he's got you by the shoulders, pushing you out of the men's bathroom when Thatch stops at the corner down the hall, blinks, and then just very carefully takes a step backwards and continues away.

Though he's mortified and his pride is irreversibly damaged and some of the division leaders are clapping him on the back and giving him congratulations and unnecessary advice on keeping women happy, you manage to get somewhat closer. You've got a dry kind of humour, a cut–throat habit of speaking before thinking, a childish kind of thought process that Ace can't help but find endearing sometimes. He thinks it's those moments where he can draw out the similarities of your personality and Luffy's or Sabo's; being around you reminds him of the fire.

And not only because your question gave him some kind of identity crisis (because why is he cold when he's literally fire?), but because you stoke the flames. It's the way you want to test whatever unreliable theory you've formed up in your head about his diametric body temperature and his logia; how easy it is for you to sweep your hands over him, part away the flames through your fingers like you're cutting through wisps of his hair to remind yourself it was hot. Then, press your palm against his bicep, curl your fingers around the 'a' of his tattoo and then drag down until you're at 'e', palm prickling with the frostbite as you do.

You're at his side often. The Whitebeards think you guys are in your honeymoon phase. Ace knows that he's merely a lab rat, even when Vista whistles lowly when you intentionally sit close enough to have your arms pressed against Ace's. Bare skin against his tattooed arm, warm and smooth against his cold and prickly, scritching, tickling. Then, like it doesn't matter, you'll touch with your fingers— feel it all out.

"Have you always been cold? I mean, before the devil fruit too?"

You're not shy about these things.

"Yeah. Always." Luffy and Sabo complained when they had to sleep next to him.

Ace ain't the kind of guy to flush and fumble over some light touching either but what you're doing feels light years away from what he's trying to rationalise it to be.

No one's ever been the kind of person to touch like you do— to caress and linger; Luffy was always big on touching, but that's only because he ain't ever learnt any better. He's the kind that smothers, chokes Ace out and leaves him as a heap of grey ash and black smoke. Your touch is the tending kind. Treading carefully, dropping another body onto the pyre, feeding the hollow with blood and flesh, keeping him a weighty full.

The next time you come 'round to the Moby Dick, it only seems natural that Ace feels the fire burn through his flesh, accelerating with a revv and leaving him with the sensation of skidding against carpet. A full body friction burn.

It's an immature thing: when you draw close, it excites the hearth, spitting out specks of broken coal and wisps of flames, threatens to melt all the calcium in him. Then, there's the cold after it, where Ace feels himself ooze back into his own skin, solidify against the cold of his flesh when you're far. The collapse of a star: the rapid energy that swirls into an intoxicating roast, spins itself round 'til it catches smoke, edges frayed and lighting up into bright hues of citrus until it's shot out as flecks of cool greys, goes around, comes around, goes and then comes, goes, then gone.

Haunting him is not the fire. Not the way you brush past him, dig your finger in and scrape your calloused print against the fold of his nape; not the way you don't stop; not the way you continue to walk off, talking to Whitey Bay about your provisions, what you got, what you don't. It's your back when he turns to follow, seeing you getting further away, feeling the warmth of your fingers fade away, fuzzy and carious and thoughtless. It's the cold after that haunts. The thought that comes to him after the frown, the soft, nagging insecurity that leaves him confused.

The day after, Whitey Bay has plans to set sail so Whitebeard makes it an excuse to celebrate, to have a drink.

Pirate parties are always the same kind of chaos.

Ace settles in front of all the food, never strays too far from the feast and lets himself be laughed at when he slumps face–first into his plate. Whenever he glances up to try and find you, you've moved. Weaseled your way into conversations with fleet members of other crews that he assumes you don't get to see often.

You'd started the night out by his side with your usual routine of checking the temperature of his flesh with your hands, assessing him carefully. Appraising his skin without even looking up to glance at him, leaving him with only the view of the top of your head— he wonders if you've got that glare on, the thoughtful one that makes him think you don't like him. He'd fallen asleep wondering that and when he woke up, you were gone. Must've not been too long since you left though, 'cause he can still feel an impression of the burn you left, fingers at the top of his shoulder, curling around to reach his collarbones before you've dragged your hand— fingers, palm, fuck, maybe even the shy of your wrist, all of it, intimate— down the curve of his slumped back.

You ain't come back since.

It's the third time that Ace has fallen asleep mid–chew. It's not as funny as it was the first time but there's still some splattering of laughter, a fuzzy noise over the tankards of beers and glasses of wine. Ace wipes the grease and spit from the corner of his mouth with an arm, yawning loudly to get air to kick start his brain and his bleary eyes wander around the beach of the stray island that they'd docked at.

He's chewing the meat that was already in his mouth when Thatch starts a second round of stir–fried something in front of him, the oil he pours into the fire revvs it alive, kicking and roaring to a metre of a man and a monolith of life until he slams a pan over it. The fire splits and breaks apart, when it parts over the edges of burnt steel, Ace sees you.

Mid–laugh, you are, lips curled back thin and your cheeks full, lava spluttering out of the dimples, warmed from the fire in front of you. A laugh that's so evident with the fire splitting through rakes of leaves and branches. Shoulders stuttering up, down; body shaking; drink sloshing out of your glass with the shake; foot stomping a rhythm against the ground that slaps and twangs loud in his skull— the flames smother, spread out even and he feels his flesh warm just beneath the skin. Your hair bulges with the hues of the campfire that crackles, billowing with the sweet lick of a sunrise dawn, melting into all the strands at the low of your chin. Violent and fond: Ace can see how the fire stirs at your feet, encroaching so carefully as not to alarm. He knows how it works, more intimate with the flames than you, so he can almost know how quickly it'll burn through your lens, taking the world down with it until it's a calm, quiet landscape with only the fact that you won't want to acknowledge.

Whatever he feels though— whatever stands in that clear landscape across from him comes and goes, quick because it's a blink of his eyes and then he's falling asleep again, with that image of the bright, supernova you: haunting.

Like always, you're gone before the fire is smothered; in the cold of your absence, Ace shrinks back into his skin and scratches along the paths that your hands took in its careful observations and studying.

[chooppi]

08. OH NO, I’M FALLING IN LOVE - THROUGH IT ALL

SEVEN | MASTERLIST | NINE

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheeyes @xinxinpeh @kaldurahms-lover @hlkenoace @insomniacvoidsstuff @cruziival72 @aiieera

[chooppi]

07. DATE NIGHT - THROUGH IT ALL

JUNE 21ST

“i don’t think i’ve ever won a game of bowling ever,” you admit as you and ace take off your bowling shoes, finally finished with the game that he ended up winning, you weren’t even close.

the man next to you chuckles as he begins to tie his shoes. “well, you can’t be good at everything, that would be kinda boring actually,” he speaks before giving you a pat on the shoulder. “but since i won, how about i pay for the loser’s dinner?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that forms on your lips at the sound of this date not ending just yet. “we’re getting dinner?” you ask and he nods. “of course we’re getting dinner, i can’t just let you go home hungry,” ace sits down for a little as you tie your own shoes.

it doesn’t take long until you’ve found a restaurant and ordered your food, now you’ll just have to figure out what talk about for the upcoming minutes, but ace has already opened his mouth to speak. “so, you liked our album?” he asks, catching your attention.

“mhm! i really liked it, i’m honestly surprised at least one of them haven’t gone viral yet,” you say, watching as the smile on ace’s face only grows. “and i especially liked those songs were you sang as well, like you’re amazing at the bass but your singing is also so good.”

ace hides his face with one hand and waves you away with his other. “stop it, you’ll make me blush,” he smiles, getting a giggle out of you before continuing. “no but seriously, thank you. luffy has been up my ass about me having to sing for that album so i’m happy it payed off. i prefer the bass though, it’s like my best friend at this point. you know how to play any?”

you shake your head. “i wish, but i don’t.”

he hums. “guess i’ll have to teach you then, you’d look really cool with it. you could come to our studio sometime, you can watch us record new songs and i’ll teach you how to play bass,” you put your hand under your chin and flash him a soft smile.

“you don’t think your bandmates would be annoyed having me there?” ace shakes his head immediately. “definitely not, they always have someone they know over in the studio so i’m allowed to as well.”

the food then arrives, causing you both to go silent for a short while, devouring the food in front of you, that is until you decide to ask something. “when does your tour start?”

ace looks up from him plate. “11th of august, why?” he raises a brow before continuing to clean the plate off food. “just wondered when you’d leave, guess we’ll have to see each other more often until then…”

he puts his cutlery down and nudges your foot under the table with his own. “yeah? you want to see me more?” it’s almost like his eyes are shining with stars as he looks at you, like a little kid on christmas. “well, as long as you want to as well?” you mumble, eyes flickering down to your plate again.

“i’m not stupid, of course i wanna see you more. i really like hanging out with you,” ace admits and smiles. “but you’re coming to our tour right? i heard from luffy that some of his friends were coming so i just guessed that you were coming too.”

“i’ll come to the concert in france, nami really wanted me to come with,” you say before reaching for your glass to chug some water. “and i really want you to come to,” ace speaks.

after dinner, ace walks you home and when you finally reach your place, he turns to look at you. “i’ll just stand here and make sure you get inside safe,” you can’t help but laugh a little at that, but eventually nod. “okay, but i’ll see you soon?”

he reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “definitely, i’ll text you,” he pulls you a little towards him, and you let go of his hand to wrap your arms around him for a hug. “thanks for today, ace.”

“thank you for wanting to see me, made me really happy if i’m honest,” he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, putting it behind your ear. your eyes meet for just a second before he pulls away, his hand however lingering over your back before you say your goodbyes and he watches you walking towards your place.

he stands there, giving you a little wave as you look back before opening the front door and stepping inside. yeah, he’s falling.

SIX | MASTERLIST | EIGHT

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this isn’t proofread so i apologize for the messy writing, i wrote this while barely awake😭

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheeyes @xinxinpeh @kaldurahms-lover @hlkenoace @insomniacvoidsstuff @cruziival72

[chooppi]

wano is so far... wait for me no longer my love.... OH MYGODDDDD getting a job was not meant for op fans

😔😔😔 work ruins everything

[chooppi]

my plan was to post another part of my smau on saturday but since it’s midsummer here in sweden tomorrow i don’t know if i’ll have time to write but i’m trying my best😭😭

[chooppi]

06. I TOLD YOU SO - THROUGH IT ALL

FIVE | MASTERLIST | SEVEN

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: just saying sorry beforehand because the update might be a little shitty going forward because work starts on monday😔

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheeyes @xinxinpeh @kaldurahms-lover @hlkenoace @insomniacvoidsstuff

[chooppi]

saw djo yesterday, literally one of the best concerts of my life

[chooppi]

OMG ur new ace smau is amazjng

thank uuuuuu <33333

[chooppi]

tu... tuvalo???

vy….vyon???

[chooppi]

05. PHOTOSHOP???? - THROUGH IT ALL

FOUR | MASTERLIST | SIX

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheyes @xinxinpeh @kaldurahms-lover @hlkenoace @insomniacvoidsstuff

[chooppi]

r u taking recs

yup!

[chooppi]

04. BITCH I CAN’T FUCKING SEE - THROUGH IT ALL

THREE | MASTERLIST | FIVE

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @hlken @squishytap @rvm1ne @gojossixtheyes

[chooppi]

♡ 03. OH WOW - TROUGH IT ALL

TWO | MASTERLIST | FOUR

PAIRING: bassist!portgas d ace x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: being dragged to a concert when a band you have never heard of is performing may sound boring, but what if there’s a cute bassist there that’s got all eyes on him while his eyes are only on you?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: the next chapter will be better

TAG LIST: @vyainide @w2mini @hlken @squishytap @rvm1ne

[chooppi]

satoru cries internally when you fall asleep without kissing him goodnight.

he stares at the ceiling like he’s in a drama. blankly. hollowly. arms still wrapped around you while you’re already snuggled into his chest, dead asleep, breathing even and soft and beautiful. and sure, you did murmur a little “goodnight” right after collapsing onto him like a starfish. but where was the kiss? the ritual? the goodnight smooch he looks forward to like clockwork?

he turns his face into your hair, sighs. dramatic. desolate. devastated.

“i can’t believe this,” he whispers to himself like you’ve committed a grave betrayal. “not even a forehead one? not even a little peck?”

listen. he gets it. technically. he’s just rearranged your insides like he was trying to make a map of his name inside your body. you were probably exhausted—barely able to get the word “goodnight” out, slurring it into his sweat-damp collarbone, limbs gone boneless against him. still, that doesn’t mean he won’t lay there feeling unloved. forgotten. discarded like a piece of tissue paper after valentine’s.

he scooches down just a bit to pout at your face. you’re drooling. adorable. utterly at peace. he watches the way your lashes flutter faintly, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips from some dream. but still.

he pokes your cheek gently, like maybe you’ll stir, apologize, and plant one on him. nothing. not even a twitch. he debates waking you up. just a little. just for a kiss. he wouldn’t mind a sleepy, mumbled one. he’d even settle for the kind you do half-asleep where you miss and it lands on his chin or his eyebrow.

he stares. waits. contemplates writing a will.

but then you make a little noise in your sleep, sigh his name, curl even tighter into his chest with your fingers bunching in his shirt like he’s your comfort and peace all at once.

okay. fine. he guesses he’ll forgive you. just this once.

but he buries his face into your neck, presses a kiss there anyway, soft and lingering. dramatic, yes, but quiet in its sincerity. you don’t wake, but your body shifts ever so slightly like it knows—like you always know.

(still. he’s waking up early to dramatically pout about it over breakfast. he’ll bring it up while you’re pouring coffee like it’s a national emergency. just so you know.)